


Sasha's Pastry House

by mikasasha



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker AU, F/F, also this is rated m for language, and for light mentions of sexi, not germany because idk how the fuck things are in germany lol, nothin else really, takes place in washington!, tried to make this as cute as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikasasha/pseuds/mikasasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a solid, proven fact that I am the best, most reliable baker in Trost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sasha's Pastry House

**Author's Note:**

> just a little something ive been throwing together for a couple months now
> 
> been working on it when i had writers block for my other 1920s fanfic (hey go check it out,)
> 
> finally finished it! i got the idea from a prompt, and i cant remember what the prompt was, but i strayed from it A LOT :\ well thats just how it goes aint it

   Let me make this clear: I am the best baker in all of Trost. Possibly the best in all of the province of Maria. Perhaps the best in all of Washington. Not a day goes by where my bakery isn't always packed from people all over the state. The strip my shop is on is always filled with cars, ranging from completely battered to brand spanking new. No matter who it was, how rich they were, or what social status they held- they wanted some of my baking. It sounds egotistical, or cocky, but it's simply facts. Ask anyone in Trost what their favorite food is, and they'll say something of mine. Heck, anyone in Washington, really. There's hardly a second in my shop where a line isn't going out the door except the first thirty minutes after opening. I'm everyone's go to for catering in my tiny town- it'd be silly to even entertain the idea of _not_  ordering from me for birthday cupcakes and wedding cakes and Christmas cookies and Easter brownies. It's a solid, proven fact that I am the best, most reliable baker in Trost.

   So why hasn't my neighbor ordered her cake for her birthday yet?

   I'm perturbed (thank you, Connie, for that one word a day calendar you got me). It's only two days before her birthday, and she hasn't called me or texted me or even knocked on my door and asked. I'm worried- extremely worried.

   Is she dead? Did she lose all of her money? Did she move and her house just hasn't gotten a for sale sign yet?

   My heart skips a beat in fear, and I peek out of my bedroom blinds to eye her driveway. No, that's definitely her car. That means she's okay, right? She has to be. I just have to remind her. She probably forgot. Ever since she got that new girlfriend of hers last year, she's been pretty spacey on everything but her girlfriend. I just have to remind her is all.

   I stretch my arms over my head and feel my shoulder blades pop while walking to my living room and hearing the birds delicately sing outside. Grabbing my nearest jacket on the coat rack and kicking on my slippers, I bounce out in the cold morning air I love to feel on my cheeks. I check my watch to see how long I have before I have to begin baking and open shop with Connie and Jean.

   My watch says 7:02, and I feel relieved I have another two hours before I have to scurry to my bakery and make today's first batch of our general cupcakes.

   I breathe out heavily in the cold, almost-Winter air, closing my front door and watching my breath fade into the gray sky. No one's out, which is understandable. Hannah and Thomas hardly ever come out of their house during anything but Summer afternoons, and Mina is always in her nursery over by my bakery. Marco is no doubt off at university classes right now (the guy must hate himself, grabbing a 6:30 class), and Jean's undoubtedly sleeping in. He'll probably be late again, the idiot; I swear I pay him more than he deserves. Hanji's doing... whatever they do in their house (I don't think I really want to know). Erwin should be at work by now, and Levi's probably still sleeping (not like he has many places to go). And the newest neighbors that moved in a day or two back are most likely still unpacking, considering they bought the biggest house on the entire tiny block, and it'll take a while.

   I don't try to walk on the sidewalk- it's slick with frozen morning dew and left over rain from last night's storm, and I know I'll probably slip. The blades of wet grass tickle my ankles not covered by my pajama pants or slippers, and I think of how I really need to mow my lawn. Or make Connie do it.

   My neighbor's house is very cute and quaint. The porch is littered with different kinds of plants in different pastel pots- some succulents, a couple different types of flowers, and even a few growing trees. Despite it being so cold and Washington being such a bad place to keep plants- especially outside- her plants are thriving very well due to such tentative care. Her front door is a gentle pink, and I close my fist to knock lightly. I hear shuffled padding to the door, and a short girl opens it and looks up at me.

She smiles brightly. She's one of those morning people you hardly ever meet. "Oh, hello, Sasha! What a surprise!"

"Hey, Christa." I smile back.

"C'mon in, honey, it's freezing out here! I just made coffee." She sidesteps to leave me enough room to walk in, and feeling the heater once inside feels like a blessing. "Ymir can't go one morning without coffee. Completely bitter coffee, at that. Can you imagine!" She chuckles and begins walking over to the kitchen, me following. "She should be up soon. If not, I'll have to wake her, otherwise she'll be late for work." She stands on her tiptoes to open a cabinet over her kitchen counter and grabs a mug. "Again. That girl is always late. I keep trying to convince her to set the alarm earlier, but gosh, she just won't listen." She grabs the nearby pot of the coffee that smells incredible and pours it into the mug. "If she gets fired, _I'll_  have to go back to work, and frankly, I am very much enjoying just being a housewife." She hands me the cup of coffee. "Well, housegirlfriend, I suppose. Sugar's in the cupboard behind you, creamer's in the fridge."

"Ymir's really somethin' different, huh?" I say as I pad over to the cabinet and reach for the sugar cubes.

"She sure is!" Christa laughs lightly. "But I think we were just meant to be. Like us being together was fate. Because I really do love her, even though it hasn't been long since we've been together."

"Really?" It's more of a statement of wonder than an actual ask. "How long?"

"It's going to be a year next week- our first year anniversary."

"Shit, I was hoping you forgot." Ymir said from the kitchen threshold in a hoarse morning voice. "Mornin', Potato Girl."

I narrowed my eyes at Ymir for the name, and Christa smiled. "I'd never forget."

"Damn." Ymir said as she walked over to the cabinet to grab a mug. "That's another present I gotta get."

"Sweetie, I'm okay with a conjoined gift, you don't have to get me two presents."

"Nah, I gotta. One for your birthday, one for a year. Shit- I just realized I'm gonna have to get you two presents _every year_."

"You really don't have to."

"Well," Ymir reached for Christa with her free hand after pouring some coffee and hugged her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm gonna."

Christa giggles. "Ymir, I know how much you hate spending money."

Ymir smiles with an attitude different from smug or condescending, which was something I haven't seen before. She looks content with just having her head in Christa's hair. I try not to feel jealous of how much they care about each other. "This is extremely true. But for you, I'll spend every last cent I have, 'cause you're the best. So I'm getting you two presents. Two fuckin' _awesome_  presents."

I smile stupidly. "That's so cute!"

Ymir immediately drops her smile, as if she doesn't want me seeing her happy. "Oh yeah. Potato Girl's here."

I put the coffee mug up to my mouth and speak angrily into it. "Y'know, I have a name." I take a light sip so not to hurt myself from the heat.

"Yeah; Potato Girl."

I look at her with eyes that could kill. "Anyway." I look back to Christa with a much warmer expression. "Y'haven't told me what kinda cake you want for your birthday yet! Y'gotta lemme know these things early, so I know what ingredients to order."

"Oh yeah!" Christa seems to remember something. See? I just had to remind her! She just forgot- probably too wrapped up in plants and Ymir. "I meant to tell you- our new neighbor's a baker!"

I smile. "Wow, cool! The one that moved into the big house over on the corner?"

"Yes! She just moved in with her brother. I talked to her, she's very-" She pauses and bites her lip. "Well, she's very... Different."

I laugh. "Good adjective. But what's that gotta do with your cake?"

"Well, I was talking with her yesterday, and she said she was hoping to get people here interested in her baking. And then I thought, well hey! Most people here come to my birthday party! So I offered her to make my cake this year!"

I pause with my mug halfway to my mouth, my expression stuck in my smile from before.

Christa asked a different person to bake for her. And for almost all of Trost. Is she even any good? What if her baking sucks? Christa's day will be ruined! Wait. What if it's really _good_? What if it's really good and no one likes _my_  baking anymore? Everyone's going to ask her for pastries- I don't think I can deal with that!

"Wait, Christa-" I laugh nervously. "I do your cake every year. I do everyone's cake every year!"

"Yes, I know that."

My smile falls. "Th- Then let me bake your cake, Christa- for your special day!"

"Oh, darn it!" Christa says, looking back to Ymir worriedly. "Ymir! I told you I couldn't do it!"

Ymir scoffs. "I'll do it, then." Ymir looks to me. "Potato Girl. Give someone else a spin. You're obviously like the best baker ever, and of course we want you to bake, but shit, let her have a turn, huh?"

"But-!"

"Hey." Ymir interrupts. "Just give the girl a chance to bake something. Make her feel welcome here."

"Since when do you care 'bout other people's feelin's Ymir?"

"Since Christa wanted me to."

I whine really loud. "Fine, okay, fine. Okay, fine, okay. But if she sucks at bakin', I'll bake you a good one the day after _and_  you have to apologize and promise you'll never let anybody else bake for you ever. And if she's really good I'll just go die or somethin'."

Christa sighs. "Sasha-"

"No-" I say. "No, I understand why you're doin' this- lettin' her have a chance. I just don't like it. But it's your birthday, and your choice." I whine louder, though, thoroughly upset and thinking about all the ways this new neighbor could totally be better than me at everything. "I gotta go!" I begin to walk away, but turn around when I realize I have the mug in my hand still. "I'll give this back tomorrow!"

   I walk quickly back to the front door and outside, closing the pink piece of wood behind me. I stand there for a while, breathing hard and processing what just happened. I huff angrily, and head back to my own house to get ready to drive over to work early. I have an itch to bake.

   As I walk through my uncut grass, I have two prominent thoughts in my head. This new neighbor just declared war, and my coffee's getting cold.

\--

   I'm in the back, about to put in another batch of marble cupcakes in the oven when I hear the fairy tinkle of the shop door's bell. I panic, frantically moving with the tray of batter in my right hand.

"Uh-!" I shout after a few seconds of flailing like a fish. "Um- we aren't open yet!"

"Oh, thank God." I hear Connie's voice at the same time I see the kitchen's door open and a short, lanky, bald asshole walk in. "Guess that means I'm fired and don't have to come in at shitdick o'clock every morning to make some cookies and decorate cakes."

My brows furrow angrily as my panic settles, and I open one of the ovens to shove the tray in under two more shelves of cupcakes. "Not yet, but keep bein' a buttface and it can be arranged."

"I'm terrified, Texas." He snickers as he ties on an apron with the shop logo. "What you want me doing first?"

"I still gotta make three more batches of lemon, and five more batches of brownies, and the vanillas and chocolates are already decorated, but there's a couple batches of marble and coconut over on the counter there that have your name all over 'em." I nod my head in the direction of the cupcakes as I head back to the mixers to get ready for another batch of lemon.

He sighs. "No cakes done yet?"

"None that're done bakin'."

"Dammit. I hate decorating coconut."

I look at him weird as I grab some lemons from the basket by the fridge. "Why?"

"Shreds get fuckin' everywhere!" He scoots by me to the pantry where the majority of the decorations are. "And I hate coconut, too."

"Well one would hope y'aren't shovin' it in your mouth."

   He just grumbles as he sets down the coconut and scuttles to the fridge for frosting.

I look over at his angry face and take pity on his pathetic, bald self, so I sigh exasperatedly as I pour the dry ingredients into the mixer. "I _guess_  I can decorate the coconuts again." The way his dumb face lights up is almost touching enough to make me not want to smack him upside the head. "But you better decorate those marbles good enough I shit my pants when I see 'em."

"In return for your ever so kind gratitude, I'll make those brownies for you."

"You're a saint in disguise." I croon sarcastically before hearing the door's bell again.

   This time, I remember I do actually have people working for me, and I use my brain to actually think that maybe the workers get here when they should.

   I check the time. 9:21.

"Well, I'll be goddamned!" I holler to the front. "Jean Kirchstein! _Early_  to his job!"

"I'm sorry?" A silky voice- one that very much does _not_  sound like Jean Kirchstein. My eyes widen, and I look over at Connie, who looks just as confused as I most likely do.

"Uh- Er-" I set down the eggs I was holding next to the mixer, and wipe down my hands on my apron as I walk into the main part of the shop. I'm greeted with a tall, intimidating woman with a red scarf and black winter clothing. I freeze as soon as I see her, staring at her with both awe and fear.

"Um, hello?" She says again, and her voice is more than pleasing to hear. A low octave and a gentle tone.

I stammer for a bit before actually being able to say something. "H- Hello. Hi. Mornin'."

She looks at me with a hint of confusion. "Are you alright?"

"Wh- Uh- Yes-" My cheeks are warm. "Why here?" I'm silent for a while before realizing that alone didn't make any sense. "Uh- Why are you here? In here? It's nine."

"Oh," She glances to the menu, then back at me. "Are you not open yet?"

God, that voice is gorgeous. I could listen to it for decades. "We-" And her eyes are such a chilling shade of gray. "Uh-" Her hair looks so soft. I want to run my fingers through it. "No, we- we aren't. Not yet. I'm Sasha." I say, surging forward to her and sticking out my hand for a handshake. I'm not quite sure why I introduce myself- I'm just _really_  nervous. She has a couple inches on me height wise- and I could swoon right here right now.

"I'm Mikasa Ackerman." She says. 'Sasha Ackerman' has a ring to it, I think. She puts her hand in mine, and I almost faint. Her fingers are slender, and cold, and soft. I can't stop looking at her face. She's so beautiful. "I'm truly sorry, I thought you were open. I saw the lights," Her hand leaves mine to fall back at her side, and I almost grab it back again. Rather, though, I drop my hand back to my side. "and since the other shops on the strip are open, I figured you were, too. I'll come back lat-"

"No!" I shout, quickly. I bristle once I realized what I've done, though, and I can feel my cheeks get hotter. "I- I mean- Uh-" I laugh nervously- a bit too loud. Dammit, Blouse, get it together! "Y- Ya came in fer somethin', huh?" Fuck, my accent is getting thicker! "Uh- How 'bout Ah get ya somethin'? Ah mean- we ain't got much ready fer sale yet, but, uh-" I bite my lip. God, she must truly think I'm an idiot. Mikasa seems to look interested, though.

"I just came to check the place out, really. All the townspeople I've spoken with here have given this place their compliments. I just wanted to try something from the infamous Sasha's Pastry House."

"Yeah! Yeah, 'course! Whatcha wanna try? Menu's right there." I chuckle nervously again as I see her pretty eyes look over the menu again.

"Oh, no, really, I can come back later. You aren't open yet, I don't want to bother-"

"No, no! Not-" I realize I'm breathing really heavy. Oh my God I must seem so creepy! "Not a bother, yer fine." I pause, then stammer some more. "Ah- Ah mean- Ah mean not like- like _fine_  as in like _sexy_ -" She looks to be amused by this. She must think I'm a goddamn fool! "Ah mean- Ah'm not saying ya aren't- because y'are-" I clamp my hands over my mouth, and my cheeks are burning as I look at her in terror. She lets out a chuckle. Oh my God. Oh my God oh my God ohmyGodohmyGod- "Ah'll go grab ya a cupcake!" I screech as I turn back to the kitchen and run in, slamming the metal door behind me shut and putting my back to it.

   Connie's standing close to the door with a hand over his mouth and a pink tint to his cheeks, looking as if he's trying not to laugh. That smug bastard- he finds this funny?! I just made a monkey of myself in front of the prettiest woman I've ever seen, and he thinks it's the funniest thing since the chicken crossed the fucking road!

"This is funny to you?!" I harshly whisper to him, and my accent's died down now that I'm not as embarrassed.

   And that's all it takes for him to burst out into laughter.

"Hey! Hey!" I shout in whispers as I hit him to shut him up. "Stop- I already feel like a complete idiot!"

He snorts. "I'm sorry- I just-" He laughs again. "You're so Southern but you're so gay!"

I whine in fear, knowing that Mikasa probably heard that. "Shut up!" I keep hitting him as he keeps laughing. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!"

   Once he's reduced down to chuckles and tears in his eyes, I shove past him to the counter with finished cupcakes and grab a vanilla and a chocolate one. I glare at him as I leave and remind him not to let the pastries in the ovens burn.

   I once again lay my eyes on Mikasa, and I'm struck by her beauty again. And then something incredible happens. All of God's angels come down and kiss my forehead, and every world wonder moves in front of my gaze as Mikasa Ackerman smiles at me. It knocks some breath out of me, and I almost drop the cupcakes.

   I swallow spit in my mouth and walk back to her again to hold the cupcakes in front of her.

"Here ya-" I clear my throat, and get it the fuck together (no I don't- just enough to swallow my accent). "Here you go. Sorry about the- the accent thing."

"No, don't worry." She hesitantly picks up the chocolate cupcake. "I thought it was cute."

   Good bye, sweet Earth and swellow dawn- it is my time. Until we meet again in my next life, I will think of your beauty.

Before I get a chance to die, however, she speaks up. "Are you sure? I can really just come back another time."

"No, no- you can totally. Just. Eat it." I sputter.

   She looks at me again before looking down at the cupcake to peel back some of the wrapper. She sinks her teeth into it and takes a bite, and the noise she makes should be illegal. She makes this little, short lived moan that slides out with a heavy breath, and I struggle to breathe for what feels like years. My cheeks are lit on fire, and my eyes widen as I try not to squish the vanilla cupcake currently residing in my left hand.

After she takes off the bite, she covers her mouth and looks at me apologetically. "I'm so sorry." She chuckles through a barely full mouth, She swallows, and my head feels light. "That's just..." She trails off to look down at the cupcake in her hand. "That's _really_  good."

I smile. "Y-You like it?"

"Yeah," Our eyes meet, and my heart stops (probably not, but it feels like it). "You're incredible."

 _I'm_  incredible. She doesn't think my baking is incredible- she thinks _I'm_  incredible.

We just look at each other, for a long time, and I get to see her beauty for what seems like forever. There's physically absolutely nothing wrong with her face- she's flawless. I want to touch her face- it's probably so soft. She's so beautiful. So gorgeous.

"I don't quite know what's happening here but it's looking pretty gay, so good job, Sasha."

   My entire world just got ruined by Jean Kirchstein's voice. _When did he even come in?!_

   I look over to where he is, resting on one of the tables over by the front door.

"Jean. Francis. Kirchstein." I look at him with a look that could give army soldiers nightmares and grit my teeth. "Get in the kitchen. Right _now_."

   The look of terror on his face was rightfully placed as he scurried past us and into the kitchen. I flushed and looked over to Mikasa.

"I- I'm so sorry about-" I grit my teeth. " _Him_."

She chuckled. "That's okay."

We just look at each other. For a really long time, too. Her eyes are chilling, her lips are gorgeous- soft looking. Everything about her is perfect. Does this girl have any flaws at all?

"Thank you," She says calmly, soothingly. God that _voice_. "For the cupcake. You're amazing. How much do I owe you?"

"Oh- no, no- I- I could never take money from you- on the house. Free. Just uh- take it."

"No, let me-"

"No- it's free. On me. It's all yours- free."

She pauses, looking at me with an analyzing look. Then the corners of her perfect, kissable mouth turn up. "Well, thank you, but next time you aren't stopping me from paying."

I giggle- turns into a snort, of course- and turn around to run to the kitchen. "In- In that case- take this one too!" I put my hand with the vanilla cupcake out.

She smiles so, so sweetly. "Okay, but this is the last one! I'm paying for all of the ones I'll get next time."

   Next time. Next time. Good lord- _next time_.

   And then she turns around, cupcakes in hand, and walks out of the front door.

   So many thoughts sprint through my head. Next time. _Next time_. There's a _next time_! And she liked my baking. She _really_  liked it! She called me incredible- called me amazing! God, she's so pretty. Such a nice view from the back, too-

   And then I remember who's in my kitchen.

   I grit my teeth and bristle. I spin around to face the kitchen door.

"Holy shit, you best get your scrawny twink ass out here _right now_!" I holler and put my hands on my hips. It doesn't take long for him to come out with that look of arrogance that he always has.

"Well, just so you know, I'm a top, so-"

I interrupt him by growling. "I'm gonna kill you!" I yell, lunging forward to him.

   He lets out this girlish scream before Connie comes out and manages to get me to chill after ten minutes of reminding me that Jean is just a dingus and doesn't get a lot of things. Jean seemed too scared to protest.

\--

   Unfortunately, that fiasco ended in Jean not dead, but rather royal icing tomorrow's batch of sugar cookies. _All_  of them. Bitch deserved it.

   We opened at eleven, like always, and had the normal rush of lots of customers. Not a drastic change in the normal crowd we get. We closed up at five, per usual, and let down a lot of people in line. But god, I was fucking beat. Meeting Mikasa and almost killing Jean so early in the day wiped me out.

   So Connie and I decided to just relax with some Call of Duty and delivery pizza.

   After the devour of a large pizza (mainly because of me, I'll admit), we whipped out the Xbox controllers and we were having a pretty rad time. Well, I was, considering how good I kicked his ass at Call of Duty.

"How many dicks do you think I can take in one go?" Connie asks randomly, straight up out of absolutely nowhere.

   What did he just say?

"What did you just say?" My hands go limp and fall in my lap, still holding my controller as I look at him with a raised eyebrow and slightly disgusted sneer.

"I _said_ -" He kills my character then puts his controller down in his lap to look me in the eyes. "How many dicks do you think I can take in one go? Like at one time?"

   I get a baffled and slightly offended feeling and look on my face.

"What the fuck?"

"Still shooting for an answer." He said as if this were a normal conversation- something you'd bring up at the dinner table of the Christmas family reunion.

I blanch. "Wh-" I pause and stare at him, yet he shows no signs of this being a joke. Holy shit, he really wants an answer. "Fuck, I don't know. How thick is a dick?" Well, I guess we've had weirder conversations.

He lifts his right hand. "Well, it varies, but roughly about this big." He makes a circle with his fingers displaying a, to me, rather large circumference. He drops his hand."That's what I've found to be about average."

I furrow my brows, looking at him really seriously. "Well, uh, I dunno. Seems like you probably can't fit more than one in your ass- and uh, maybe you could take two in your mouth? You have a pretty big mouth." He squeaks an offended 'hey!' in prtoest. "And then, one in each hand- so; five?"

   He hums in thought, and puts his hand to his chin. He mumbles an 'I wonder' under his breath, before putting down his controller on my coffee table and standing up.

"Hey- where are you goin'?" I exclaimed as he walked towards the front door.

"Gonna go find out if you're right." He says simply, just straight up walking out the door and closing it.

"Wh-" I'm confused. "What?"

   I hesitantly get up, and walk to my front door and tear it open as Connie's car pulls out of my driveway. My face is probably a spectacle right now.

   That was completely out of nowhere. Was he thinking about that the whole time we were playing Call of Duty? Why was he thinking about that? Why did he ask _my_  opinion? Shouldn't he talk to Jean and Marco, or even Reiner and Bertholdt about that kind of thing? I don't like dick- I don't know the first thing _about_ dick- what was he thinking? That was definitely the weirdest thing he's done in a while, I honestly have no idea-

"Sasha?"

 _That voice_.

   I look around desperately for the source of the voice, looking around my lawn and up and down the street, across the street, up and down the sidewalk-

   There she is. Mikasa.

   And she's... holding a boy's hand.

 _Fuck_  my _life_.

Yet even so, her face still made my knees weak. "H-" I lifted my hand slightly to give a little wave. "Hey, darlin'!" My eyes widen, and I gasp lightly. "I- I mean- no, I didn't mean- sorry! Didn't mean to! Sorry!"

   But she let go of his hand. To walk to _me_. What? What? Whatwhatwhatwhat!!!

She chuckled. I almost fainted. "No, it's okay- don't apologize. Sasha, this is Eren." She gestured to the man that was also walking towards me. I almost hissed at him. She stopped in front of me, then Eren as well soon after. His dumb varsity jacket looked fresh as fuck- dammit. A fucking good boyfriend with a sick ass varsity jacket. How can I beat that?!

"'Sup!" Eren smiled crookedly. "I'm Eren. Mikasa's been talking about a baker named Sasha all day. Assuming it's you?"

I gulped. "I think so."

Mikasa smiled slightly at me. "Yeah, this is who I was talking about."

   It was silent for a while. Awkward. Awkward. Fix it, Sasha!

"S-so!" I interrupted the silence. "Why didn't your boyfriend come with you to the shop this mornin'?"

   They're both quiet for a while, before Eren busts out laughing and Mikasa chuckles for a bit.

I get scared. Why are they laughing! "Uh-" I chuckle nervously. "Wh- What's funny?"

She looks me in the eyes. "It's just- No, no, Eren's my _brother_."

I _really_  get scared. "Oh- oh my god I'm- I'm so sorry- I had no idea- I just saw the hands and-"

"No, no it's fine." Mikasa smiled. Eren was still fucking laughing. "You apologize too much, it's alright." She lifts her hand. What's she doing?!

   She squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.

   I die.

   And then she puts her hand back down, and I swear I'm dead.

"But, no," Her look gets _a lot_  more intense. Her eyes don't move from mine. I can't tear my eyes from hers. "I'm single."

   I take it back.

    _Then_  I die.

   My face goes red, and I clench my fists behind my back. My fingernails are fucking my palms, but I don't care, because her gray eyes are beautiful.

"That's- I- Um- I-" I'm blushing too much! Blouse, get it the fuck together, holy shit! "I- Ah um- Yeah- Yeah Ah'm single too- not- not datin' anyone! No girlfriend! C- Completely. Super duper single." Oh my god, shut up! Your accent!

She giggles. Oh my god, she giggles again. "Love your accent."

"Oh wait-" Eren interrupts. When did he stop laughing? He looks me in the eyes. "You're gay too?"

   Too?

"Eren!" Mikasa hisses.

    _Too_?

"No no, it's just-" He puts up his hands as if surrendering. "I don't think I've met a person on this street that isn't gay. Like not even a bi or ace or pan or poly person. And that's including me and Mikasa!"

    _Too_!

" _Eren_!" Mikasa's cheeks are turning pink.

   That's the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire breathing life, and any lives before this one.

He turns to her. "What? It's true. _I'm_  gay. _Really_  fucking gay. I fucked Armin, I fucked Marlo, Dennis, Mike, Franz. And you're guilty too- I caught you that one time with A-"

"Eren! Cut it o _ut_!" Mikasa's cheeks are _very_  pink now.

   And boy, mine are too. I don't know who 'A' is, but whoever she is, she's the luckiest fucking person in the world. To get to see Mikasa like that- tangled limbs and heavy breaths and salty skin; long limbs and soft hair and swollen lips; smelling sex and tasting the inside of her mouth and feeling her shaky diaphragm-

 _Fuck_  my _life_.

"Only spouting straight truth here, Mika."

I giggle, which kinda comes out like a strangled snort. Fuck. "Uh- well, Christa, my next door neighbor, isn't gay, if you've met her. She's pansexual. And Hanji down across the street over there is asexual; Hanji is kind of _disconcerting_  though, so I wouldn't go talk to them."

   Mikasa chuckles and gives me a sheepish smile. God save me.

"Oh, Christa is the tiny blonde girl with doe eyes and the smelly, big girlfriend, right?" Eren asks.

I laugh. That's a name going down in my history books. "Yeah, she lives in the house to the left." I pause. "Well, the right, to you."

Eren leans back in order to get a good view of Christa's house. "Oh yeah! Her birthday's coming up soon, right?" He reaches back to a regular standing position.

I furrow my brows. "Well, yes, but- how did you know that?"

"When Eren and I first moved in down the street," Mikasa answers for Eren. "Christa and Ymir were the first to greet us, and we got to talking. Eren had to go meet someone while they were over, so he'd left, and I went up to make tea, and I heard them talking about Christa's birthday. Somehow your bakery got brought up, and how they love your baking but were looking for something new. So, I offered to bake her a cake for her party, since I'm trying to get into baking myself."

   My entire world crashes around me. Everything safe has turned into harm. Heaven is now Hell. My life is gone. Goodbye.

"Oh! Yeah!" I laugh too loud and too obviously forced. "They told me about that!"

"I... hope you don't mind?" Mikasa says, looking actually concerned. She- she was concerned? Was she concerned about _me_? "I can cancel, if you'd like."

 _Fuck_.

   Of course, she has to be the nicest, most gorgeous, sexiest woman in the entire world. Why couldn't God just make her ugly and terrible? So I could kick the shit out of her and make Christa a fucking cake?

   Shit.

"Wh- what?" This had to be some joke. Of _course_  she wouldn't give up something she wanted, for _me_ , a person she met less than twelve fucking hours ago. "No- no way! This is your chance! You can-" I laugh, so scared. What if she's _amazing_? Better than _me_? No one will want my pastries anymore! They'll all ask her! _That bakery is my only job_! It's the only thing I'm good at! It's inevitable- she's going to be incredible and she'll open a bakery and everyone will go there instead of mine and I'll be out of my job and I'll have to get an office job and work nine to five- and I'll have to marry a businessman and have two kids in a house I'll have to take care of with a golden retriever and a white picket fence with a swing set in the backyard. "You can show everyone your- your bakin'! I'm sure you're incredible!"

"She's not as good as _you_!" Eren immediately shouts. Like, _immediately_.

   I blanch, unsure of what to say, while Mikasa laughs.

"Geez, thanks Eren." She smiles and sarcastically shoves him with her shoulder.

   Her breath is coming out in beautiful puffs of steam in the cold air, and I can smell the mint in her breath, as if she just brushed her teeth. Her hair is swaying gently in the soft breeze under her beanie, and her nose is red from the cold.

   She lifts a hand from her jacket pocket to itch her nose, only to reveal no gloves- just pale fingers and veiny palms.

   She must be freezing.

"Uh-" I look only at Mikasa. I can't seem to tear my eyes away from her. "You guys can come in- if- if you like; you must be cold. My friend just left, so I'm probably about to whip up some hot chocolate or maybe some quick cookies-"

Eren interrupted me excitedly. "Yes! God yes, I love your stuff!"

"Great, now he's going to want to be here all night." Mikasa rolls her eyes with a smile on her face. She looks at me sheepishly after, with a red tinge to her cheeks. "Though I suppose that's not too bad."

   Oh, sweet merciful God, I thank you for granting me this blessing despite my sins.

   I repent, Lord.

My cheeks flame up, and my hand rises up to twirl my hair not in a ponytail, just out of pure habit. "W- Well then, come on in, don't be a stranger."

   I widen the door for them, and close it once they come in.

\--

   Mikasa and Eren leave late, right on the cusp of midnight.

   You wouldn't even believe me if I said I had made three batches of cookies- Eren made sure to get rid of all the evidence. After eating the first two batches almost alone, he insisted he take another batch home for Armin to try (I don't know who that is), and Mikasa apologized too many times.

   Eren was happy, and that I'm glad for, because Eren being happy seems to make Mikasa happy as well. When Mikasa looks at Eren, her eyes get brighter, and I can tell they're really close.

   They certainly look nothing alike- it's likely one of them is adopted or they're half siblings or something. But they act just like blood siblings- they've probably been family for a long time.

   As I lay in my bed, my clock telling me in bright red numbers that the time is crawling onto 2:30 AM, I think of them. How they're so nice, how they're so close, how they're both gay. They're both gay.

   Mikasa's gay. _I'm_  gay.

   Mikasa's single. _I'm_  single.

   Really, the relationship that has the possibility of blooming is just uncanny.

   But there's still the pressing issue of the baking thing.

   Eren saying that I'm better than Mikasa granted me some solace, but what if it's just because Eren is _used_  to Mikasa's baking, and he just really likes the change? It's still a very real possibility that no ones gonna want my baking the second they shove Mikasa's in their mouth.

My entire career is at stake. Baking is seriously all I have. And I'm good at it! I swear I am! But if Mikasa's better, no doubt the townspeople here will want here to open a bakery, and then what? My business will plummet, and I'll be out of a job, and all of the money and effort and love I put in my job will be pointless.

Mikasa is so lucky I like her, otherwise she would probably be dead by now.

\--

   I'm back again at the pink wooden door of Christa and Ymir's house once Saturday rears its head, unbelievably nervous to knock on the door. Mikasa's cake is in there. Mikasa's wonderful cake. Everyone loves it, no doubt.

   I bite back a lump in my throat and knock on the door with my hand not holding Christa's gift, and not a second later, Christa enthusiastically answers the door.

"Sasha! I'm so glad you made it!" She beams with her pearly white teeth and her soprano voice.

"Of course! Wouldn't miss it for the world, Christa!" My voice, surprisingly, isn't shaky. "Where should I put your gift?"

She looks down excitedly. "Oh!" She exclaims, looking at it as if it was a miracle sent from Jesus himself. "Oh, I'll take it! I'll put it with the others." She looks back up at me, and I hand her my shittily wrapped (honestly, it's _really_  shittily wrapped) gift. "Oh," Christa says as she takes my gift. "We've already cut the cake. I think you'll be more than happy to try some."

   Oh god. Oh my god, it's perfect and beautiful and delicious.

I pause uncertainly, then force a smile. "Y- yeah- I'll go try it."

   I gently shove past her towards the kitchen, and when I walk inside, I see Mikasa- so, so beautiful- standing by the cake in such a gorgeous dress.

"Sasha." She says, her eyes brightening slightly as she spots me.

"Hey, Mikasa!" I say, and I'm even more nervous then before.

"Would you like a slice of cake?" She says it proudly, excitedly. It must be such a huge hit among the party- oh man, oh man.

I push out a slight laugh. "'Course!"

   She smiles lightly, and turns around to cut out a piece of her three tiered, perfectly decorated cake with _fondant_  and _frosting flowers_  and pretty patterns. Ugh, just kill me.

   After putting it on a plate, she hands me the small slice, and I already know this isn't gonna be enough cake for me and I'm gonna shove it down my throat and cry.

"Thanks." I choke out after she hands me a fork.

   I can tell she's waiting for me to try it.

   It's red velvet, I notice. God, that's such a hard cake to make from scratch- she must be amazing.

   I sink my fork into it, and I feel like I'm gonna throw up as I lift it to my mouth.

   I shove it past my lips.

   It tastes...

   Absolutely horrible.

   It's dry and bland and tastes _awful_. Yet I'm nowhere near close to throwing up anymore. I chew and swallow, and smile bright at her.

   She looks so happy that I'm smiling.

   Oh, god- god I'm so happy-

   I put my plate down on the table holding the cake, and throw my arms around her, squeezing tightly.

She laughs and hugs me back. "You liked it that much?"

"I love it!" I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes. "I love it, love it, love it, Mikasa!"

   The first thought that registers after that is "holy shit she's kissing me".

   It doesn't take long to sink in, and I just wrap my arms around her tighter and kiss her back, and all I taste is her wonderful, terrible cake.

**Author's Note:**

> yes,, i know the ending is a little rushed and the entire thing is pretty shitty. it was just a little something i made for myself and i didnt really plan on publishing it but fuck it u only live once
> 
> also if it seems ooc, its because mikasa has like no reason to be super stoic, because titans arent killing everyone she knows and she didnt have to murder someone
> 
> also i tried to make this as gay as possible
> 
> u could probably tell
> 
> my tumblr is @memekasasha  
> my url is http://mikasasha.god.jp/
> 
> go wild


End file.
